


Morning Rise

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7988680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You spend the night in the Dixons’ tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before season 1 when Merle is still around. There is sexual content/adult themes, but nothing explicit.

“What are you doing?” Daryl’s voice asks from somewhere in the shadows. Your body jumps and you put your hand on your chest as if you’re going to slow your heartrate doing so.

“Jesus!” You shout out in a whisper as he emerges from the backside of the Winnebago you had been leaning on. “You could get shot scaring people like that!” You see him roll his eyes as he adjusts his grip on his crossbow.

“Ain’t no one here gonna shoot something that talks.” He comes to stand next to you and looks you up and down. You’re in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, hair probably a mess, eyes tired. “So what  _are_  you doing?”

“Can’t sleep,” you answer. You don’t sleep well in the RV with everyone in there. It’s tight and cramped and half of your bunkmates snore all night. Daryl looks at the dark windows and nods. His feet shuffle a little before he shrugs.

“You can crash with us if you want,” he offers quietly. He shares a tent with Merle that’s just a little distant from the rest of the group. It looks roomy enough, but you’re hesitant to share a tent with the Dixon brothers.

They are jackasses, both of them. Merle more than Daryl, but still. Jackasses. Dicks. Assholes. Every other name under the sun. Yet somehow you get along with them. 

The first time you ever walked past the two of them, they were skinning an animal by the fire pit, blood covering their hands. Merle catcalled you and called you sweet cheeks. You responded with a smile and drew back an arrow, aiming your recurve bow right between his legs.

“I’ve got pretty good aim and I’m damn close,” you had told him as he paled a little. “You sure you want to be making those comments?” Merle hadn’t said anything else, but when Daryl chuckled a little, he tossed a handful of guts at his younger brother. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t take shit from either of them and it seemed to shape into some screwed up form of respect. Merle still made sexist comments and slapped your ass on occasion, but he knew damn well you were going to fight him back on it. Daryl kept his distance, but always made sure you got a cut of their kill first and offered you his extra supplies. You’d even gone out hunting together once or twice. In the rare instances of walkers around, you and the boys gravitated towards each other, making sure all three of you were accounted for before checking on the rest of the group.

Despite it all, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself friends with the Dixon brothers and the idea of spending a night with them still doesn’t exactly sit well with you. You play with the offer in your head, chewing on your lip. Daryl sees the hesitation on your face.

“Merle’s already asleep and he sleeps like the dead,” he tells you, knowing Merle is your biggest concern.

“Do the dead sleep anymore?” You crack a thoughtful and teasing smile. Daryl rolls his eyes at you.

“You wanna sleep or not?” He’s impatient about it. Daryl’s always been the shy one of the two. You have to admit that you’ve enjoyed making light flirtation towards him to watch him blush uncomfortably. Standing out here and being made fun of for a friendly offer was having the same effect.

“Yeah,” you cave. “Yeah let’s go.” You push your body off the Winnebago and start to walk towards their tent. Daryl follows quickly and walks next to you, eyes always scanning out in the distance for movement.

If you let yourself stop to think about it, let yourself admit it, you know you like him. Lately, there’s been a twinge of butterflies when you say something that makes him smile and you find yourself visiting him on his own more often.

There’s something about the younger Dixon that’s mysterious and intriguing. He’s quiet and he’s callous and off-putting. Yet when you actually do talk to him, there’s something intelligent in his voice, something deep and meaningful behind it even under the redneck accent and curse words. You enjoy the conversations you get to have with him. You like joking with him, smiling and relaxing.

And if all that wasn’t enough, the man was sexy as hell. Covered in dirt and ripped up clothes, he can make your mind wander just by walking past you. It’s earthy and primal and flat out hot, especially in the apocalypse. Half the time when you’re whacking his arm, it’s just so you can feel the muscle underneath his skin.

Daryl steps out in front of you when you near the tent, breaking your train of thought before it turns dirty on you. He pulls the flap back and steps aside, letting you get in first. You wonder if his eyes are watching your ass as you crouch to get in. His brother’s would have for sure.

The hot Georgia air is sticky, but the boys have a small battery powered fan in a corner of the tent that cools the inside just slightly. It’s not much, mostly just pushing around hot air, but it’s pleasant nonetheless. There’s an electric lantern in the same corner, casting a dim light into the tent.

Merle is sleeping on a small cot pushed up against the side of the tent. He’s on his side and facing the wall which makes you feel a little better. Off to the other side, there’s a single sleeping bag on the ground where you assume Daryl sleeps.

“We can open the sleeping bag and lay it out,” he whispers as he comes in and zips the tent closed. “Not like we need a blanket in this fucking heat.”

While Daryl starts putting his crossbow in its place, you make yourself useful and kneel down to unzip the sleeping bag and spread it out on the ground. You can feel the hard ground underneath you and wonder how he can sleep on it every night without having back problems. You’ve been spoiled with the RV even with the snoring companions.

When you turn back to ask Daryl which side he prefers to sleep on, you’re hit with sight of him standing shirtless in front of you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without a shirt and it makes you stutter just a little. The muscles in his arms extend down into his chest and suddenly the little fan doesn’t help the hot air at all anymore. He catches your stare and raises his eyebrows at you questioningly.

You manage to stumble your way through your original question as he picks up a clean shirt and throws it on over his head. You’re both grateful and disappointed by the fact that he’s no longer shirtless in front of you.

“Wall side,” he answers gruffly as he kicks off his shoes. You scoot to the edge of the sleeping bag and make sure there’s enough room when Daryl walks over and lays down next to you.

There’s a brief moment where you’re not sure which way to face. Facing Daryl seems awkward, but you’d rather not have your shining face be the first thing Merle sees when he wakes up in the morning. After a half bit of thought though, you’d rather it be your face than your ass. You roll over to face Merle’s back and try to get comfortable, using your arm as a pillow.

“Thanks for this,” you whisper over your shoulder.

“Whatever,” he mumbles behind you. You can hear him shuffling around for a moment before he says, “Here,” and pushes a pillow against the back of your head.

“Oh!” You lean up, looking over at him. “Don’t you want it?” He had given you his pillow as there didn’t appear to be a spare around and his head is currently resting on the ground. 

“Nah,” He shrugs. “I don’t mind the ground.” You give him a small smile before positioning the pillow under you and thanking him. 

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep when Daryl turns off the lantern. The uneasiness of sleeping in the Dixon tent disappears when your eyes get heavy. It’s actually the first time where you don’t have to worry about walkers sneaking up on you, which is strange because a tent, logically speaking, is a lot less safe than the RV. But you know the Dixons. They’re just about the safest people to be around if something were to happen.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you feel an arm get thrown over your waist. The act startles you, but it’s quickly followed by Daryl groaning in your ear and you relax. It happens fast enough that your body and your brain don’t fully wake up. Incoherent and flat out dumb thoughts float through your mind for a mere fifteen seconds before you’re back asleep, Daryl’s arm tightening around you.

When you do wake up in the morning, the sun is just starting to shine. You make out the dark log shape of Merle still sleeping in his cot, never having moved during the night. The air has cooled off some, but your body is still warm and you realize Daryl’s arm is still slung over your waist, holding you tightly to him. His face is buried in your neck, chest pressed against your back. 

It’s a comforting feeling, being wrapped up in him. His arm is strong, protective, and by god you can feel all those muscles in full detail. You start to flush and fidget, unsure of what to do. You’d never so much as hugged the man and you had just woken up in his arms.

It’s during your slight fidgeting you realize there’s something poking you from behind. At first you wonder if Daryl sleeps with a knife in his pocket that has fallen out. It’s fuller and smoother than a knife though and it doesn’t take too long to realize what it is.

Right around the moment you figure out Daryl has morning wood that’s slowly growing harder against you, his grip on you tightens and his lips move towards your ear. Through a sleep coated voice he hisses, “Stop.” You’re not sure he’s fully awake because after you stop moving, he grinds just slightly against you.

You can feel yourself heat up, blood rushing up to your face and tingles dipping down between your legs. You’d thought about it before, wondered how big he’d be. You’ve got a pretty decent idea now, but you can’t help but want to know for sure. Your arm reaches up and behind you, grasping his hip.

He’s awake now, his fingers gently running over the skin of your stomach where your shirt had risen up. He whispers your name in your ear and nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing across the column of your throat. You swallow a small moan and simply grind back against him. Your eyes flutter close and your fingers tighten on his hip, itching to sink down between your bodies.

The only thing that stops you is that you hear Merle roll over, starting to wake. The second Daryl hears his brother move, his body leaves yours. He quickly scoots himself back leaving a rush of fresh air against your back that feels horribly empty. You resist the urge to groan in protest and let him go.

“Well, well,” Merle drawls from his cot, starting to lean up on his elbow when he sees you. “Lookie what we have here.” You roll your eyes and start to sit up yourself. Daryl stays laying down, probably trying to get rid of his hard-on before his brother catches eye of it. “You could have come cuddled up here with me instead of sleeping in the dirt with the dog,” Merle laughs.

“Sweet offer, Merle, but the second you grabbed a tit, you’d lose your balls,” you tell him with a sarcastic shrug. “Didn’t think you’d want that.” His face scrunches up unhappily and he lets out a huff. He makes some grumbles as he throws his legs over the edge of his cot and starts to stretch himself awake. “I should get moving,” you say to no one in particular. You shuffle yourself to standing position and straighten out your clothes. “I’ll uhh,” you pause and sputter slightly. “See you later, Daryl.” You mean to say it with more confidence, but you’re dying to get out of the tent.

Daryl nods his head and makes some kind of noncommittal grunt. Merle smirks and makes an obscene kissy face at you before you turn to leave. You unzip the tent quickly and stumble out of it. You can already hear Merle starting to poke fun at Daryl as you re-zip the doorway.

When you turn around, Amy is standing there with a basket of laundry, eyeing you suspiciously. She raises and eyebrow and practically giggles at you. You look down at your wrinkled clothes and run a hand through your disheveled hair.

“Oh shut up,” you tell her, trying not to laugh yourself.

“So did you just go for Daryl or did Merle join you?” she teases. You shake your head and point to the basket.

“Do you want some help?” She’s still giggling when she nods her head. “Then shut up and I’ll meet you by the creek.” Amy walks off, smile still on her face. You take a look back at the tent and wonder how bad you’ll be able to make Daryl blush now.


End file.
